


By the Rivers Dark

by crimsonsenya



Series: Rivers of Babylon [2]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Dark, F/M, Het and Slash, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:54:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonsenya/pseuds/crimsonsenya
Summary: Sequel to my Stripped Down to the Bone





	By the Rivers Dark

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this fic before the first part, it is necessary to know that in this verse only Connor recovers his memory at the end of the episode 5.18, and that he ends up using ecstasy to deal with his past and the difficulties of moving on with his false life. About seven months after the events of _Origin_ Angel recruits Spike to help Connor to rehabilitate and they become tightly bond by friendship, family blood, and desire. This story takes place about six months after the events of Stripped down to the bone, though the focus is not just on S/C. However, canon events prior to 5.18 are refitted to my own purposes. 
> 
> Title and quotes come from a Leonard Cohen song. This is an edited re-post of the original fic that was posted on LJ in 2005.

*******************************************

By the rivers dark  
I wandered on.  
I lived my life  
in Babylon. 

And I did forget  
My holy song:  
And I had no strength  
In Babylon. 

By the rivers dark  
Where I could not see  
Who was waiting there  
Who was hunting me. 

 

*********************************************

 

Illyria lied on the bed, her bare skin exposed to Wesley’s dark, dilated eyes. 

“Without this body you are nothing. The only reason you still exist in this world is because of her. Say it!” Wesley’s voice was hoarse and relentless. She stared back at him with her emotionless blue eyes.

“The only reason I still exist is because of her.” 

Illyria’s body arched in anticipation, her hands were tied with ropes to the bedposts. Wesley straddled her thighs, lowered the finely crafted blade, and began carving letters on her stomach: ancient curses, lamentations, and love poems in runes, cuneiform, Sanskrit, Latin, whatever he chose each night. In the morning, the wounds would be healed, and the writing disappeared, as the winds swept off footprints in the sand. Their days passed in a reserved coexistence from Wesley’s part and a blank stiffness from her part. In daytime, Illyria explored the wonders of the modern, human inhabited world, but every night, Wesley returned to his task. He covered her back, her breasts, her arms, her thighs, and her bottom with letters and marks. Kissing her felt like broken glass cutting his lips, but Illyria absorbed every twisted, dark, desperate emotion that streamed from him.

“I do not comprehend. These things you have, what you call feelings, they can not be compared to anyone else’s,” she said. How could she understand that every human was unique? That everyone's sorrow was their own, and that everyone had to mourn alone. Wesley would have preferred to drown her in blood, darkness, and pain -so much he hated her-, but she was the only thing he had left of Fred –for eternity. Perhaps, when he had torn her flesh enough, Charon would accept his offering and permit him to cross the river of oblivion into Hades, in the world of shadows, where he could be free of emotion, free of hurt. 

 

*******************************

 

Connor hadn’t wanted to go back to college for the spring semester. He and Spike were spending their nights as rogue demon hunters, who were not particularly picky about their clients, and their days sleeping and bonding, as Connor had deadpanned to Angel. 

“Maybe next fall,” Connor had said to his father, the real one. To the false one, he had simply continued to lie about his internship at a law firm. 

“That’s not very nice,” Spike had smirked at him. Of course, Angel wasn’t very excited about Connor quitting the law school, and he had many times pressured Spike to convince Connor to continue. Spike doubted Connor was yet in a stable enough mental state to attend college, and their debates were even more intense than usual every time Angel and he met alone. The poof seemed to be dreaming of a perfect, middle-class, all-American son, who didn't have a bloody clue of whom he really was, Spike thought, but his discussions with Angel usually ended with Spike shouting for him to cut Connor some slack. The kid had been to hell and back –both literally and metaphorically.

 

When Connor and Spike needed extra cash, they drove to Las Vegas and earned a few thousands on poker. It had happened only a couple of times though, because Los Angeles brawled still with demons, vampires, and other nasties to fight against for the sake of puppies and Christmas, and Connor and Spike were more than eager to assist –for a reasonable fee. They had moved out from the penthouse Angel had rented for Connor’s rehab to Spike’s flat, after buying a new, wider, and more durable bed to spend the sunny hours in most pleasant ways, though Spike liked to push Connor out in the afternoons. 

“You’re still human. You need light. That’s how you get your dose of vitamins A and D and whatever,” Spike said. Even if Connor practiced on the sunny roof of the apartment building or walked on the beach, but he still remained much paler than an average Californian, yet another point Angel complained to Spike. Connor agreed to the daytime, outdoor activities as he complied to Spike’s caretaking in general, but in his heart, he knew he was a child of night. He loved going out in bars, pubs and nightclubs; no dive was rough or sleazy enough for him not to pop in. The intoxicated people, the play of shadows on bare skin, the neon lights, the hypnotically seducing or exploding aggressive music, the whole enticing nightlife made Connor feel like he was not different from all the others. Everyone was as artificial as him –and as dark. One night, they could party at a club that played drum 'n' base and trance, similar to the one Connor had frequented when he used X. The next night, they could attend a gig with a roomful of punks, and on the third night, they would have a drink in a smoky gay jazz club. Often, they went out also for strictly business. They dove in to the demon underbelly of L.A., talked to people, listened to rumors, bought drinks to possible connections. Only after a hunt well done, they could purely indulge themselves in having fun.

 

Connor still had nightmares, mood swings, and times of depression, but Spike had become his anchor to reality; the simple contact of Spike’s cool velvet skin under Connor’s fingertips calmed him down, when woke up terrified. Connor didn’t know how to express his gratitude, but somehow, he was sure that Spike sensed with his almost clairvoyant perception the complex mess of Connor’s feelings, when Connor crawled on his knees, howling like a wild beast, opening himself to Spike in every way he could in his tangled and troubled reality. Spike was the best friend he never had had before, his brother, his family, the one person in his entire lifetime, who Connor knew for certain loved him all the way.

 

************************************************

 

At the entrance of the Irish pub, Lindsey inhaled the familiar scent of tobacco and beer. Damn, it was good to get out of Eve’s flat! The place was about as inspiring as an average motel room. Eve had gotten him out of the torture dimension, where he had been held as Senior Partners' captive for eight months, and if the price was to play the role of a passionate lover, he had to admit it was a pretty decent price to pay. Lindsey needed his escapades though, like the ones he had with Lilah, when she was released from hell to fulfill some bidding of the Senior Evils. Lilah had found out about the bind Angel's son had been in, and they had first planned on taking sweet revenge on Angel by toying with his son. In the end, it had felt like they were doing Connor a favor by providing him with drugs he needed to bear his past. Every time he ventured out of the flat, Lindsey took a risk of being detected, even if he was tattooed with brand new, more powerful protection spells. The half-empty pub wasn’t very classy, your typical dark wood furniture and green shamrocks. The clients were mostly blue-collar workers and poor college students. In the past, he might have played his guitar there. He walked to the counter and ordered a whisky on the rocks, while letting his gaze slide across the room. His heart skipped a few beats, when he recognized the person next to him. 

“Well, isn’t it the other vampire with a soul?” _Was Angel around?_ His mind raced, but he did his best to hide his nervousness. The vampire lifted his eyes from the sports section of the newspaper in front of him with sensual slowness. 

“Bloody hell! The cowboy with visions.” His lips curved into a sly smile. “Thought you were having the time of your life in one of the various hell dimensions? Or wait, I forgot, L.A. is one of them.”

“Didn’t feel like home, too boring. I came back.” Lindsey turned his back to the counter to look at the students playing pool in the corner. Two girls that had probably been spending hours dressing up to impress, and a guy that at the moment was leaning over the other girl to improve her grip on the club. Both girls’ body language showed Lindsey that they were the ones being played instead. The young man was indeed hot: graceful movements, silky long auburn hair brushing his shoulders, black leather pants and wrists, an exceptionally nice ass, a tight, dark blue t-shirt with a Lizard King print that gave promise of the lean muscles beneath covered his upper body. The familiarity of the figure finally struck him. Lindsey cursed at himself. If Connor was with Spike, Angel had to be around. Lindsey eyed the room frantically, wishing he had the sense of smell of a vampire. He couldn't meet Angel yet.

The soddin’ bloke knew about Connor? Spike would kill Eve as soon as he got his hands on her. Spike fumed, when he noticed Lindsey’s reaction to the boy. Spike did his best to remain calm from the outside, as Lindsey continued to speak.

“I almost didn’t recognize you, with the new hair and all.”

“Sorry, can’t say the same. I'd know that belt buckle anywhere,” Spike flashed his most infuriating smile. The cowboy was sweating. He probably thought Peaches was in the bar too. Now, Spike was truly amused to see where their encounter would lead. 

 

Connor bagged three balls in a row and turned his face to check, if the vampire had been watching. When Spike smiled at him, Connor felt a pleasant warmth in the pit of his stomach. Spike had been the one to teach him how to play in the first place. The vampire too had company, which wasn’t very rare, and Connor believed it was because they looked good together. Connor had noticed that the combination of danger and sexuality was a definite hook for women, men and vampires alike. The two of them didn’t usually mind the attention, but to his surprise, Connor realized he had met this man before. _The guy with the huge belt buckle._ Both Spike and the man kept looking at him, as he left the disappointed girls to finish the game by themselves and grabbed his beer before walking over to Spike, as casually as he could. 

 

 _Shit,_ Lindsey thought, as he saw Connor approaching. He expected the brooding bulk of a vampire dad to throw his ass across the bar any minute. Was it about half a year ago he had met Connor the last time? He had heard from the club that right before Christmas someone, who had caused quite a scene, had come for the boy. And Lindsey had drawn the conclusion that it must have been Angel, and later, Eve had informed him that Connor was living with Spike, but she wasn’t familiar with the details. Angel’s son was walking towards him, no, towards Spike, and he wasn’t a disturbed college student giving blowjobs to strangers for drugs anymore, but a confident-looking, hot package of young man, gifted with a pair of hypnotic, stormy blue eyes and an animal grace that draw Lindsey’s eyes to him like a magnet. 

 

Connor went straight to Spike, who was standing now too. Connor pressed his groin against the vampire’s and slowly adjusted his parted lips on Spike’s mouth. Spike cupped Connor’s bottom with both hands and pressed him even closer, as they engaged in a long, fascinating play with their tongues. Lindsey couldn’t point which surprise was bigger, meeting the two in general or seeing this. No matter what, his cock stirred alarmingly. _One big happy Angel family,_ he almost said aloud. Connor pulled back. His nod to Lindsey was barely visible. 

“Connor, may I introduce you to Lindsey MacDonald. He used to work for the same firm your daddy’s running now. He and your dad go way back,” Spike said with a pretended formality and a barely hidden glee, lifting his scarred eyebrow, sensing the man’s discomfort. Connor stretched out his hand.

“We’ve already met, but it’s always nice to get a proper introduction,” Connor said in his most polite nice-to-meet-you-at-my-grandmother’s-birthday tone, and Lindsey made his best effort to regain his coolness.

“Names aren’t always needed.” He tried to sound ambiguous, as he shook at Connor’s hand. Lindsey could play along. He had played games all his life. The boy’s palm was dry and cool, and Lindsey noticed his black nail polish. He could still remember the sensation of Connor’s long, fine fingers stroking him, and the touch of Connor’s lips, now full and extra rosy after passionate kissing, on his cock. And Connor definitely knew what to do with his mouth to make a man moan. Would kissing him feel like kissing Darla? At least, his mouth was nothing like his father’s. Lindsey could remember Angel too with perfect clarity: the straight line of his mouth, his hard lips, the one sided smirk, and the fangs that burst out when he came. 

“You have coins for the jukebox?” Connor turned back to Spike, the nimble fingers exploring now the left pocket of Spike’s duster. 

“Here.” Spike handed him a five-dollar bill. “I’m out of fags. Get us a packet, luv.” Connor went past Lindsey to the bartender, without a glance, and bought a packet, before stepping up to the juke in the back, ignoring them. Spike folded the paper he had been reading and set it back on the counter.

“Nice to see ya, mate. I’m off to the loo. Even a vampire needs to get rid of booze.” Now, Spike left him too. Connor had chosen Ramones’ Pet Cemetery, and after Spike came back, they left together walking side by side, with their hands brushing. Lindsey was stunned. What the hell had just happened? And what was up with Angel?”

 

****************************************

 

Wesley sat by his desk, translating a codex on ancient prophesies from Aramaic to English. Computers were handy sometimes. He drowned himself on his work and spent most of his day at the office. Otherwise, he would be sitting home, drowning himself in something liquid and burning instead. There was nothing else for him. Almost all his friends were gone, and the woman he had loved destroyed. Gunn had left W&H soon after Fred’s death. Wesley was glad they didn’t have to see each other ever again. Gunn’s way of dealing with guilt had been to join Anne’s center and be a legal adviser to the kids. “Maybe if I save enough of them…” was the last thing Gunn had said to him and Angel. Lorne had left them too. “Don’t look for me,” Lorne had muttered, before leaving, the pain still too heavy. After the previous Christmas, even Spike had ceased to annoy Angel with his presence, though Wesley had found out the reason pretty soon. There were only two champions, the word equaled contempt to him now, left; Angel and Wesley were holding the fortress, fighting evil with evil, and Wesley didn’t recognize the man he saw in the mirror every morning. 

 

Angel entered Wesley’s office. If he wanted to talk to Wesley, all he needed was to pick up the phone, but since Wesley was the only person he could even remotely trust in the whole damn building, Angel liked to visit him as often as possible. 

“Is Illyria around? I have something she could do,” Angel said. Wesley looked tired and pale. Nowadays, his stubble was constantly in dire need of shaving, and his shirts and pants were wriggled for the lack of ironing. Angel was relieved for the fact that Wesley had at least cut down on drinking, but his eyes still reflected more death than life. Wesley stopped typing and stretched his arms.

“No. She’s at Spike’s playing _Crash Bandicoot_ with that Connor kid.” 

“Again?” Angel muttered.

“She says, it is boring and repetitive, yet she feels a strange compulsion to keep on. Her majesty wishes to explore this need.” Wesley couldn’t help a somewhat dismal grin. Angel hadn’t wanted to introduce Connor again to Wesley and Illyria or to bring him back under the influence of W&H, but Spike had insisted. 

“Bugger it. If you want us stayin’ in L.A., and if you want to keep seein’ him, we can’t make him disappear. Wouldn’t that be suspicious? The watcher isn’t a dummy. We’ll just say, that Connor and I, we met again, and I became his mentor,” Spike thought a while. “In the sense of ancient Greeks. Then I’ll just say I want to be on my own and no hard feelings.” Angel had hated to admit that Spike was right. 

“Why didn’t you stay in the penthouse, instead of moving back to that dump of yours?”

“It’s not a dump, it’s a low-rent flat,” Spike had answered.

“And the difference is?” Angel had frowned his brow.

“Connor chose to move in,” Spike had said and looked at his grandsire straight in the eyes. Angel couldn’t protest to that. He had decided to let Connor choose freely, how he wanted to live his life, as long as it didn’t involve drugs and slimy bastards pimping him. The only thing he was worried about was Illyria hanging around Spike’s flat, because that would end up leading in Wesley spending more time with his son too. Whenever Illyria was at the premises, she liked to stay near Wesley, until he got irritated and ordered her to the lab. She still had a connection to Fred’s scientific memories, and she could help out with research, but as she hadn’t forgot her status as an aeons old goddess, she wasn’t very eager to work under anyone other than Wesley. At the office, Wesley’s manner with her was indifferent and distant, but Angel could smell their scents mingled in a way that implied sex. Furthermore, she still lived with him, even after Angel had offered Wesley to provide her with other accommodations.

 

“What if we drive to the mall and get a cup of coffee for you?” Angel asked. Wesley took breaks rarely, and Angel suspected he didn’t eat enough, because the wrists peeking from his sleeves were bony and his cheeks hollow. 

_There wasn't much meat on him, he would break so easily. If Angel lay on top of him, Wesley's hipbones would press sharply on his stomach, and he could trace all his ribs with his fingers… He would probably feel under him like his son felt to Spike, when Connor lied under him, except for the stubble that would burn deliciously on the skin of his neck._ For once, Angel was grateful he was a vampire, because otherwise, he would have flushed red with his thoughts. To his amazement Wesley complied and they ended up on _Dunkin Donuts_ at the nearest mall. Wesley ordered a triple espresso and a sugar glazed donut. 

“How’s it been with Nina?” Wesley actually found Angel dating the werewolf amusing. Angel had a serious thing for blondes. 

“Fine.” Angel replied, he twiddled with the white paper napkin on the tray.

“What’s wrong?” Wesley asked him right away.

“We’ve been out many times by now, but I don’t know…” Angel rolled the napkin in a tight joint.

“Heat, but no fire?” Wesley assisted, even after all the years they had known each other, Angel still seemed to feel awkward confiding in him.

“Yeah. We’ve had sex and all, but as you see, no perfect happiness.” Angel turned his head and extended his hands to show he was still all souled up.

“And you think that, maybe, you should let her go, ‘cause after all, there’s no future for you two in the long run?”

“You’ve always had a way with the words, hadn’t you?” Angel asked, a boyish smile played on his lips, which sent an old jolt through Wesley.

“That’s what you pay me for,” he laughed dryly.

 

**************************************************** 

 

Illyria had finally ceased playing, and now, she was watching her favorite show, Stargate: SG1. She sat on the couch completely immobile, with her head inclined to the left. 

“These small humans travel through minute worlds, and I wish to know, whether they remind any of the innumerable worlds I have traveled to,” she had explained Wesley after the first episode she saw. Spike was in the kitchen mixing his favorite blood cocktail, as the doorbell rang. 

“To what do we owe this honor?” Spike bowed in a Victorian manner at the door. Connor came to the living room, buckling his belt. 

“Wesley, Angel. Hi!” he nodded at them. “I don’t think you will get her out of here for another half an hour,” Connor smiled. Wesley joined Illyria on the far end of the couch, and Angel followed Spike back to the kitchen. 

“Where are you going tonight?” Angel asked him, as he guessed from Connor’s attire that they didn't plan to kill any slimy demons. He didn’t like the petulant tone of his voice. Angel pondered how weird it was that Connor’s clothes were something Angelus could have worn, but usually, his accessories were more like what Spike’s might have preferred. Connor was wearing black slacks and a tight button-down mesh shirt. The color was dark, almost ruby plum, which obviously was his favorite, because he varnished his nails often with a similar shade. He wore the polish now, too, and he had applied black eyeliner and even silver glitter on his eyelids. What more, he had filled his fingers with rings (courtesy of Spike), and his hair created a silky cascade down to his collar bones. It reminded Angel of something or someone else though. At least, his son didn't have a rainbow on his head like Spike did nowadays. Connor had created himself as William did, when he became Spike, Angel realized, yet he didn’t know, who his son had become. It might not be the life Angel had wished for his son, but he had to admit that Connor seemed to live the happiest time of his true life: he had Spike to love him, and he was allowed to hunt and hit the bars as much as he wanted to. Connor smiled quite often, not much to his father though. 

 

Spike felt almost sorry for his grandsire. He looked wretched and lonely, and Spike had noticed his eyes had popped out, when he had seen Connor. It was unbelievable, how empathetic Spike had become with Peaches after he had given him to his son. 

“Isn’t he absolutely dazzling?” Spike asked. "Some people we help call him _El Lindo Angelito de Muerte_ , and vamps have christened him as _The Lost Daywalker_ ,” Spike continued, tasting his drink. _The beautiful little angel of death,_ Angel savored the words. They called him the little angel without knowing, who his father was. Angel felt a sting of pain in his heart. All he wanted to do was to run to his son, lift him in his arms, press the lithe body to his chest and shout out to the whole damn world: _He is my son, my flesh, my blood, mine!_ This urge had been burning in him, ever since he had seen Connor standing in the lobby at Wolfram  & Hart, calling for Dad; but all Angel could do was to take the offered mug of blood and sit opposite to Spike at the kitchen table, wondering who in reality was the lost one. For a fleeting moment, he even considered taking Spike to get a piece of his son, but there was no point in making Connor hate him again for violating what was his simply for such a short-lived pleasure. Angel sighed.

 

“So what have you planned?”

“Connor wants to hang out at this rock club that has an old school Goff night, and then, who knows. We never plan the fun that far ahead.” Spike shrugged his shoulders. Angel stared quietly at his mug.

“Look, Peaches. Why don’t you and your wolf girlfriend join us tonight?” Angel seemed genuinely astonished. “Why not? Two birds at one shot,” Spike continued, but Angel still hesitated, “Come on, we’ll let you choose where to go after mingling with those gloomy Goths. I can assure you, you’ll fit perfectly in,” Spike grinned. Angel sat still for a few seconds. 

“Alright, we’ll pick you two up in an hour,” Angel answered. He could never resist the chance to be with his son.


End file.
